Boudreaux’s Lady

by Smith, Lauren

  He almost had.

  But she’d failed him. With her dying breath, she’d given life to a girl that held no place in his home because she could not inherit. For that, he had cursed Albina and seconds later she’d been gone. The image of blood pooling between her thighs on the bed was something he could never erase from his mind. Nor could he forget how it had felt to carry the stillborn son down to the gardens and bury the babe himself. Andrew.

  Cornelius hadn’t cried. His grief was the kind that ate away at him, digging into his soul as he felt himself bleed out slowly over a lifetime.

  Roddy had saved him, as much as that was possible. The cheery boy with a kind heart was in some ways the essence of Albina’s lovely spirit, even though the child had not been born from her.

  And now he was going to lose Roddy too. Lennox was hovering in the church, with the Duke of Essex just behind him. They spoke in soft whispers as they waited for him to move. He still could not fathom why Lennox hadn’t had him arrested for strangling the girl. Whatever Lennox intended, Cornelius was at the end of his rope and could feel it all closing in.

  “Father, we should go,” Roddy said as he approached the end of the pew. “I’ve summoned our coach.”

  “Er… Yes. Thank you.” Cornelius stood and collected his hat from the bench. He met Lennox’s gaze as he started toward the door. But a second later the appearance of Boudreaux and Sheridan from the side yard pulled Lennox’s attention away from Cornelius.

  “Don’t let that man leave!” Sheridan gasped as he met with Lennox and Essex in the center aisle. “She’s gone!”

  “What?” Lennox hissed as all eyes turned on Cornelius.

  Beau had already grabbed Cornelius and slammed him into the nearest pillar.

  “Where is she?” The fierce light in the man’s eyes didn’t scare Cornelius, but he shook his head.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t…”

  “Beau, what are you doing?” Roddy shoved at Beau who released Cornelius. Cornelius jerked his coat and waistcoat down, smoothing out the rumpled fabric as he scowled.

  “Don’t pretend you’re not behind this,” Beau warned and this time the unspoken threat left Cornelius very afraid.

  “Father, what is he talking about?” Roddy demanded.

  Cornelius shook his head. To his relief, Beau did not immediately tell Roddy about his interest in Philippa. Cornelius came to the only possible conclusion. “Sommers must have her.”

  “On your orders,” Lennox stated.

  “No, not mine. I cut my ties with him yesterday.”

  “We know about the midwife,” Lennox said. “And the Wilsons’ shop.”

  “Those were on your orders,” Lennox said.

  “I have admitted no such thing. I had dealings with the man, which have come to an end. But Sommers is unstable, and he’s become obsessed with this woman. I would put nothing past him,” Cornelius warned.

  “You can dance around the truth all you like,” Beau growled. “But you set him on this path. You put this into motion and condemned my wife to die.”

  “I’m sorry,” Cornelius muttered, and he was. There was only one way he should have handled this. He was the only one who could have made her death quick and painless. He never wanted her to suffer, yet he had been a coward and hired a monster who would never let her have a speedy death.

  “There’s no time for this,” Lennox said as he dragged Beau away. “We can’t allow him even the head start he already has. We’ll gather the others and divide our efforts to search likely locations.”

  Cornelius was now left alone with his son.

  “Father? Please tell me what’s going on.”

  “I do not have time to explain. You should return home and wait for me there.”

  “Where you going?” Roddy asked.

  “Please, do as I say.” His son’s suspicion wounded him, but Cornelius had no choice. He had to go after Sommers. And he had a good idea where the man might go.

  Cornelius fled St. George’s and hailed a hackney to Rimmel Street. It was a notorious rookery, full of the worst thieves and cutpurses, where many a careless man had lost his wallet, or his life. Sommers had a set of rooms there, if he recalled correctly. Cornelius dreaded to think what the man did whilst occupying those rooms.

  The coach driver looked askance at his request, but Cornelius paid him double the standard fare. By the time he reached the rookery, he was sweating. He was going to have to face Sommers and trick him into trusting him one last time. It was the only way he could do what must be done.

  Chapter 19

  Philippa sat on the edge of the bed, weary and dizzy as Sommers removed his coat and laid it over the chair. When he turned to face her, she did her best to mask her emotions.

  “It is rather amazing what a person will do when they believe salvation is within reach. For example, this is your antidote.” He removed a second blue bottle from his coat pocket and set it on the washstand behind him. Her eyes fixed on the bottle and his smile grew.

  “I can see you planning to grab it, but you’re weak. Soon you’ll be barely able to breathe, let alone move. So, you had better listen, my dear.”

  Outside Sommers’ footman stood guard, and she knew she didn’t have the strength to fight them both.

  “Get on your knees. I wish to see you beg, to see those silver eyes filled with pretty tears. If you please me, I may give you the antidote.”

  Philippa was not one to beg, but the desire to survive removed all pride. Before she could drop down, the door opened, and Monmouth walked in.

  “What are you doing here?” Sommers snapped. “Why did Jean let you in?”

  “He let me in because I’ve paid you to kill her. I thought it would be best to witness the deed done, don’t you agree?” Monmouth flipped cold eyes to hers. “Please, continue, Lord Sommers. I am but a mere presence to witness your deeds.”

  There was a flash of uncertainty in Sommers’s eyes before he smiled cruelly at Philippa.

  “Very well. Knees, my dear.” He pointed to the floor. Philippa looked only at Monmouth as she fell to her knees. There had to be a way to stall him, or to get to the antidote. The wood floor hurt, and she clutched at the bed beside her to brace herself against the pain. Her own father, this terrible stranger, was condemning her to die and wished to witness it.

  Sommers step forward, grinning. “Now beg,” he repeated his command. She wanted to spit in his face or shove a knee into his groin but she didn’t dare, not when she had to play this game better than he did.

  “Please,” Philippa whispered. She saw Monmouth come up behind Sommers, no doubt to get a better look at her as she faced her doom.

  “Please what?” Sommers asked.

  Monmouth opened his coat and casually removed a pistol. Philippa stared in shock as Monmouth pointed it at Sommers’s back.

  Crack!

  Sommers grunted. His expression was stunned, confused. He tried to turn around, only to have the strength drain out of him, and then he fell to the ground at Monmouth’s feet.

  “What did he do to you, child?” Monmouth asked.

  “Poison,” she whispered.

  He took time to reload his pistol. “I feared as much. I never should have hired him. This was always between you and me. I am not so cruel. I can promise it will be quick and painless.” He didn’t meet her gaze and that’s when his words sank in. He wasn’t here to save her. It was just as he’d said. He wanted to see the deed done.

  Monmouth finally looked at her, really looked at her. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. Had your brother lived, you wouldn’t have been facing this end. But I need an heir and you cannot be one. If only I’d never seen you that night at Lennox’s house. I panicked, haunted by my own past. Lennox would never have looked into your origins. It was foolish of me to even think such a thing.” He cleared his throat and guilt darkened his eyes.

  “But the die has been cast. Please, close your eyes,” he whispered, almost sweetly. “It will a
ll be over soon.”

  Philippa didn’t shut her eyes, she stared at him. “Father, please…” she whispered, hoping that would remind him they were blood relations, that she was his daughter. That had to mean something…

  “Father?” A voice from the doorway made Monmouth turn away from her. Roderick was there, his face pale as he took in the scene. “She called you father…” He moved into the room, looking at the still form of Sommers on the floor, then turning his gaze onto the pistol.

  “Leave now, son. You shouldn’t be here,” Monmouth said. “This does not concern you.”

  “I think it does, far more than it should.” Roderick walked toward them; his hands half-raised as he slowly stepped in front of Philippa.

  “She’s not my daughter. She’s delirious, and dangerous…” Monmouth said. “Leave,” he commanded as he raised the pistol. “I will explain later.”

  “Father, you cannot do this. I won’t let you, no matter who she is.” Roderick stood his ground.

  Monmouth’s hand trembled. “You don’t understand. She will destroy you. She is the end to everything.”

  Roderick looked to Philippa as she leaned against the side of the bed, too weak now to move. She focused on trying to retain a grip on the bedding to avoid falling on to her back.

  “I find that hard to believe, father. All I see is a man lying dead on the floor, and you about to murder a helpless woman.”

  Monmouth stared at Roderick. “You want the truth? Fine. Hear this at your own risk. You aren’t my son by my blood. That child died in my wife’s womb. But she bore a second child, the girl that you so valiantly protect. I gave her to the miller and his wife and purchased you from them. Every moment she draws breath,” he nodded at Philippa. “You put your inheritance at risk. I must deal with her.”

  Roderick was still for a moment. “It’s too late, father. Lord Lennox and Beau know the truth, don’t they?”

  “But they will have no proof. I will see to that. It is my word against theirs. Once she and her parents are gone, you will be safe. Your inheritance will be safe.”

  “My inheritance? Paid for in the blood of innocents? No, I’m sorry father.” Roderick said softly. “If you wish to hurt her, you will have to go through me.”

  “Damn you! We will lose everything!” Monmouth shouted. “It will all be for nothing!”

  Philippa gasped as Beau and Lord Lennox appeared in the doorway. They’d found her. Beau held a pistol on Monmouth.

  “It’s over, Lord Monmouth,” Beau said. “Your son knows the truth now. We all stand against you.”

  Monmouth lowered his pistol and let it drop to the floor. Beau and Lennox rushed him, slamming him into the ground, toppling the chair where Sommers’s coat had been draped. Monmouth fell on the ground with a grunt, Beau on top of him.

  “Find some rope.” Beau called out. Lennox searched the room. Roderick turned to Philippa and helped her onto the bed, but it was too late.

  “What’s the matter, what did my father do to you?”

  “Not him…Sommers…” She pointed a shaking hand at the bottle on the washstand before collapsing back on the bed. As her mind sank into darkness, she thought she heard Beau shout out her name. Perhaps it was all a dream…a terrible, frightening dream.

  * * *

  “Something is wrong with Mrs. Boudreaux,” Roderick said. “She’s out cold.”

  Beau glanced up. “Philippa?” He called out her name, but his wife was as still as death.

  “You see, you’ve only delayed the inevitable,” Monmouth said. “Sommers poisoned her.”

  “Bloody Christ!” Lennox swore as he spun to face Monmouth. Beau sat up, losing his hold on the earl as he continued to stare at his wife in horror. He had failed her again. This time he couldn’t save her. He—

  Pain lanced up his arm and he looked down numbly to see Monmouth had cut him with a small blade. Monmouth shoved him and Beau fell back. Lennox moved fast, slamming the earl onto the ground again and with one well delivered blow to the man’s jaw, he knocked him out.

  “You all right, Beau?” Lennox asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine. He just scratched me with the blade.” Beau took two steps toward the bed to reach Philippa but the world tilted and he stumbled, hitting his knees by the bed.

  “Lennox… I can’t feel my legs,” he breathed. His vision dotted and he clutched weakly at Philippa’s gown that trailed off the bed. The soft fabric of the gown felt like silky water, slipping against his fingertips.

  “Is it poison?” Roderick asked slowly then gasped. “That bottle! Perhaps it is an antidote!” Roddy snapped the bottle up from the washstand and started toward Beau and Philippa but Lennox called out.

  “Wait! Don’t give it to them. Sommers was anything but an honest man.” Lennox frantically searched Sommers’s body with a grim look as produced a second bottle nearly identical to the one Roddy held. He stood and rushed over to Roddy by the bed.

  “Are they both poison?” Roddy asked.

  Beau blinked, desperately trying to focus on what they were saying, but it sounded like he was deep underwater and was hearing their voices through the waves.

  “Let me see them.” Lennox studied the bottles together. “The drawings are both of snakes, but look, one is lying down, coiled. The other is rearing back, ready to strike.”

  “Attack and peace?” Roddy murmured. “Poison and the antidote, perhaps?”

  “I think so.” Lennox uncorked the bottle with the snake coiled up and held it Beau’s lips. But Beau shook his head.

  “Philippa…first. Please….”

  Lennox nodded quickly and poured a bit of the contents down her parted lips before he returned to Beau and gave him a little.

  “What do we do now?” Roddy asked.

  “We wait.” Lennox’s grim words were the last thing Beau heard as he passed out against the bed with his hand still clinching the pale blue silk skirt of his wife’s wedding gown.

  Hours later it seemed, he stirred groggily and found himself lying on the small bed in the cramped quarters of the room on Rimmel Street. Lennox stood by the bed, leaning one shoulder against the wall.

  “Welcome back,” Lennox said.

  Beau blinked and licked his dry lips as his memories flooded back. “My wife…”

  “Here,” her soft voice came from beside him. He turned to see her lying next to him in bed. Her face was less pale, but her eyes were still a little glassy.

  “Thank Christ,” he sighed. All other words failed him. He looked again to Ashton. “Monmouth has been taken away by the Bow Street Runners. Sommers is dead. That is at least one small mercy.”

  Philippa’s hand settled on his chest. “Do you feel better, Beau?” she asked.

  “Yes. And you?” He saw no tension or evidence of pain on her face, only a slight weariness.

  “Much.” She looked gravely up at Lennox. “Sommers taunted me with an antidote to the poison. He set it on the washstand. Lord Lennox discovered that it was actually the poison and that the true antidote was in his coat. He never intended to give it to me. He also had a dagger with poison on the blade, Monmouth slashed you with it.”

  Beau attempted to sit up on the bed and checked his arm which had been bandaged. “But how did he poison you?”

  Philippa touched her sleeve. “He paid a seamstress to prick me with a pin dipped in it during my fitting yesterday. He intended the dose to kill me on our wedding night.”

  “Then why did he abduct you from St. George’s?” Lennox asked.

  “Pride,” Philippa said, though she did not elaborate. Beau did not press the matter. He was sick just thinking about what could have happened.

  “What happens now?” Philippa asked.

  Lennox smiled at them both. “Now, you live.”

  But it wouldn’t be that easy… Beau had almost lost Philippa today, and he could barely think past his own fears. The pain of losing her now… It would be like losing his father and mother all over again.

 
; “Why don’t we call a coach and have you both sent home to rest?” Lennox suggested. “We have much to clean up. Bow Street will need statements from Philippa and her parents to gather the proper evidence against Monmouth.”

  “Right.” Beau sighed as he helped Philippa to her feet. She moved weakly and he put an arm around her waist as he helped her. But deep inside he felt like a traitor to himself and to her. He knew his path already. Once she was well and healed, he intended to leave for New Orleans without her.

  He’d come too close to losing her tonight and he’d felt that fear, that hint of the empty shell that he would be without her.

  I’m not strong enough to survive that. I can’t stay…

  Chapter 20

  Something was wrong. Beau was far too quiet as Philippa entered his home with him. A flood of people greeted them: her parents, her grandfather, Roderick, the Lennox family, as well as a dozen others. The wedding breakfast had been cleared and put away since no one had been able to eat it. Philippa tried to ignore the twinge of disappointment at missing such an important thing like a wedding breakfast. Lord Sommers had robbed her of her happy wedding day, but at least not her life.

  “We appreciate the well wishes,” Beau explained to the crowd. “My wife is safe and the threats to her life are finally at an end. I apologize that we no longer have any food or drink ready, but we will arrange for that tomorrow if you are able to attend.”

  The guests politely accepted this change of events and left. Only her parents, her grandfather, and Roderick remained behind. Roderick was watching her parents… His parents with confused hesitation. Philippa gently touched his arm.

  “Would you like me to introduce you?” she asked.

  Roderick’s eyes brightened. “Yes, very much so.” He leaned into her, whispering apologetically. “Mrs. Boudreaux, I do not understand how you can be so compassionate after what my father did to you.”

  She squeezed Roderick’s arm. “As I have heard many times from your grandfather, you are nothing like him. I could never judge you for his actions. You are as much a victim as I am for our change in circumstances.” She looked at her parents who stared at them both with nervous hope. “You never had the joy of knowing your true parents, but you may now.”